My name is Liz and my husband was called Emile.

We are both in our forties and he was diagnosed with a brain tumour, 14 months before he died.

My husband had made a decision that he wanted to die at home

and that was really important to him.

We were in a fortunate position that he had choices

and the choices were respected by healthcare professionals.

Three times a day they would come in to check that his drugs were all infusing correctly through the infusion devices,

but also to check on us, to make sure that we were ok,

and that everything was sort of… that we were, not happy, but that we were coping with the situation as it was.

The benefit of the nurses coming in was that we were able to stay at home and keep a normal routine going for our daughter.

She was able to do homework in an evening, rather than having to spend time visiting him in hospital.

It just felt right to be at home.

It’s such a difficult situation to deal with anyway when someone’s dying and I think to actually be in your own home made it a lot easier for us to cope with.

He was in the place that he wanted be, with the people that he wanted to be with him.

And he was surrounded by people that he knew and loved, rather than strangers,

who, you know, had hearts of gold and may of wanted to help him,

but he was with people he was familiar with

so he wasn’t having to deal with anything different.

And I think for us, as a family, it was really comforting to see him surrounded by loved ones.